farmer, who felt sufficiently intimate to enter without knocking. This
changed Haley's intention. Feeling that the odds were against him, he
sprang through the window, gun in hand, and ran with rapid strides
towards the river.

"What's the matter?" demanded the new arrival, surveying the scene
before him in astonishment.

"He's gone off with my gold," exclaimed Paul Nichols, recovering from
his stupefaction. "Run after him, catch him!"

"Who is it?"

"Ben Haley."

"What, your nephew! I thought he was dead long ago."

"I wish he had been," said Paul, wringing his hands. "He's taken all my
money--I shall die in the poorhouse."

"I can't understand how it all happened," said the neighbor, looking to
Robert for an explanation. "Who fired the gun?"

"I did," said our hero.

"Did you hit him?"

"I think so. I saw blood on his shirt. I must have hit him in the
shoulder."